


Grace and Choice

by suchanadorer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark Castiel, M/M, Sam 'Boy King of Hell' Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 12:08:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Boy King’s loyalty shifts to another angel. With an army of demons and fallen alike on his side, there is nothing Castiel can’t accomplish. As long as he holds Sam’s favor. In order to do so, he returns to Heaven in search of a gift to show his devotion to Sam, and to their cause.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grace and Choice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luciferious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luciferious/gifts).



> Written for [luciferious](http://luciferious.tumblr.com) for the Sastiel Week Secret Santa Exchange 2012, and inspired in part by [Empire](http://jacksondean.deviantart.com/gallery/29134294#/d5987xk) which he, in turn, did for The Great Blind Sassy Exchange over on tumblr.
> 
> A big thank you to defilerwyrm and orangezest100 for their help!

Castiel catches up to Sam in a town ruined by a plague that has corrupted the crops, killing even the trees and grass.

Sam stands in the middle of a dead, flattened wheat field, face turned towards the overcast sky. Castiel approaches slowly, his fingers curling around the handle of his blade. It’s rare anyone actually sees Sam these days, but his presence weighs down everything. Azazel’s favorite child has embraced his destiny, and with the assistance of demons and angels who both want the Apocalypse he’s been breaking seals with unprecedented speed.

“This won’t end how you want it to, Sam,” he calls out. Sam turns his head to face him, and Castiel only just sees the black swirl away from his eyes. This is the outcome he’d tried to so hard to avoid. Coming face to face with it sends a chill down his spine.

“It’s too late, Castiel,” Sam replies. There is confidence in his voice, but also resignation. Smoke rises from the wheat and curls lazily around him.

“No, it’s not,” Castiel answers with a shake of his head.

Sam disappears, but a week later no more seals have been broken. Castiel continues to leave clear overtures where he can, even sparing demons so that they can take messages back to their king. He is always a step behind, arriving to see the damage but never in time to meet Sam again. He feels nonetheless that his entreaties are having an effect. The breaking of the seals has stopped, and Castiel can only hope that it is thanks to his influence.

It’s Ruby who finally approaches him after weeks of signals passed back and forth. She gives Castiel a date and an address. She doesn’t tell him which city but Castiel finds it easily enough. Sam’s power hangs in the air like a coming storm. Now this careful dance of them pulling each other closer by backing off their own apparent missions has come to its climax.

There is the crunch of boots at the entrance to the narrow alley, and Castiel’s blade is in his hand automatically. It’s an instinct, but he still feels a flush of shame when Sam steps into the light and sees him holding it.

“Castiel,” Sam chastises him gently, “we won’t be needing that here, will we?”

The change in Sam is incredible, now that Castiel is given a real opportunity to take it in. There is power coiled within Sam like a serpent, and he carries himself with aloof pride, confident in his abilities. Castiel imagines the bloody, tireless hours of training, and for a moment he is bitter that he could not be there to help Sam, to guide him along his true path. By all rights it should have been him, but the garrison were too powerful, and had his true purpose been discovered, he would have been killed.

The blade disappears, but Castiel does not relax.

“I apologize,” Castiel replies.

“I understand,” Sam says as he steps towards him. “Uriel used to do the same thing.”

Castiel frowns at mention of the name. He had trusted Uriel, and had initially been shocked to discover that his friend was helping with the breaking of seals. Their mission had been to avert the final battle between Michael and Lucifer, but that feels like ages ago. Much has changed in a very short time, for all of them.

“It’s good to see you, Castiel,” Sam says. He looks unchanged, watching Castiel with the same hazel eyes and giving him a cautious hint of a smile. He spreads his hands wide to show that he’s unarmed, but Castiel knows better. Sam doesn’t use a gun anymore. His mind and his body are his weapons. He is never without them.

Castiel nods. “It’s good to see you too, Sam.” He means it. He’s missed Sam, even if he knows that the man standing before him is not the same Sam Winchester.

Sam nods and gives another tentative smile. “I was glad to hear from you. I’ve been wanting to meet with you for some time.”

He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans while he talks, nonchalantly strolling further down the alley, but never looking away from Castiel. Where Castiel would expect him to be menacing and predatory, he is instead reticent.

“You slowed down your seal breaking,” Castiel comments carefully.

For all that he can see what is happening inside Sam, had expected it to show more in his appearance. That he would dress differently, carry himself more regally, but there is nothing there that gives away his true purpose. It is a clever disguise, so much evil hidden behind such a sweet face.

Sam shrugs and answers after a moment. “A gesture of good faith. I have a message that I couldn’t send via anyone else. I had to come personally. I _wanted_ to come personally,” he adds with a grin.

There it is, in the way he speaks. Like English is a foreign language to him now. Castiel wonders what he’s like when he addresses his legions.

“I have been looking forward to seeing you as well,” Castiel admits. He has a feeling Sam has been preparing for this meeting even longer than he has, and that the relief he feels over the amicable start is mutual.

“I’ve missed you,” Sam continues, and something in his tone tugs at Castiel’s gut. “Your guidance. This has been trying, and lonely, but it’s given me time to think and look at what I want.”

There is genuine eagerness in Sam’s voice and his face. Castiel is pleased, but he can tell that there is more coming.

“They call me the Boy King, you know,” Sam says with a chuckle. Castiel does not think lightly of it, but he nods for Sam to continue. “But even now, I am ruled by Heaven. The angels threaten me, as if they could find another who can do what I am doing. As if all the other children weren’t dead.”

“I am aware of the hubris of Heaven,” Castiel says.

“I heard that you’re trying to stop Heaven’s plans for the Apocalypse.” Sam glances back over his shoulder conspiratorially, as if he expects someone to walk in on their conversation.

“In my way,” Castiel replies, though he suspects that he and Sam don’t mean the same thing. Thus far Castiel’s efforts have been small, and in fact Sam’s voluntary pause in seal-breaking has been his biggest victory. He wanted to believe that Sam could be saved, and now, here in this rain-wet alleyway, Castiel believes he made the right choice.

“I want to help you,” Sam offers. “I want to be free of Heaven’s influence over me. I have an army of demons that will gladly follow any order I give them, and there are angels who are loyal to me as well.” At that he gives Castiel a pointed glance. Castiel swallows hard, but doesn’t look away.

“If we join forces, we can do this,” Castiel assures him, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long while. Hope for the future, but also hope for Sam, that he will return.

Sam nods and smiles. “I'll need time to prepare. We’ll meet again soon. I’ll send Ruby. She is… exceedingly loyal.”

Castiel is suddenly aware of how close they are standing to one another. His head is tilted back to look up at Sam, who in turn has tucked his chin to look down at him.

Sam sets a hand on Castiel’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “It really was good seeing you, Castiel.”

His voice is heavy when he pats Castiel on the arm and turns to go. He disappears back out onto the street and Castiel stands alone in the alley, trying to process what just happened.

Sam Winchester, The Boy King, believes he is giving up his mission to free Lucifer in order to help Castiel stop the Apocalypse. That is the information that he will take back to the garrison.

Days pass with no word from Sam, until a seal is broken in northern New York. A lake dries up, suddenly and with no apparent explanation.

Castiel arrives to find Ruby standing on the shoreline, looking out over the slowly drying expanse of mud. It stinks of dead fish and rotting vegetation, but neither of them seem affected by it. There is a crew collecting samples and shoveling slop into wheelbarrows, and if they notice the pair standing on the opposite bank, they pay them no mind.

“Ruby.” Castiel greets her, and she looks back at him over her shoulder.

“Is it true we’re gonna take on Heaven?” she asks him, turning back towards the cleanup scene.

“Wasn’t that the plan all along?” Castiel replies, coming to stand beside her.

“No, I meant – “

“It’s not my place to say,” Castiel says calmly. His eyes are on the workmen but he’s not watching them.

Ruby shifts her weight. “Not your place to say, or not your place to tell me?”

They exchange a glance out of the corners of their eyes. Ruby nods understanding.

“Where will he be?” Castiel asks.

She pulls a motel key out of her jacket pocket and hands it to him. “He didn’t say a time, so you’ll –“

There is a rush of air, and Castiel leaves her standing alone by the lake bed.

He goes straight to the motel. The room is typical Winchester fare down to the faded wallpaper and unemptied ashtray on the nightstand. Sam’s bag sits on one bed, and his laptop is open but dark on the table. There is no evidence of anyone else in the room.

Castiel waits. He sits down onto the edge of the bed and reaches out with his mind. He knows that Sam is nearby, but he cannot pinpoint him. The demons in the city are dispersing. His brethren have all left. This seal is broken, and it will be Sam’s last night in town.

It’s dark when the door to the room finally opens. Castiel stands and steps away from the bed, and something inside him tightens when he sees Sam’s face light up. For a brief moment, he thinks that Sam will cross the room and embrace him. It’s an absurd notion, but when it fails to happen Castiel still finds that he is disappointed.

“You came,” Sam says, something like surprise on his face.

“Of course I came,” Castiel replies. He’s suddenly wary. Sam is stiff and confident, with a coolness to his features that wasn’t there that night in the alley.

“They know, you know. What we’re planning.” He gestures between himself and Castiel, and Castiel nods. He had expected no less, but they only know what Sam knows. “They don’t understand your motivation, but they know you’re up to something.”

Castiel scoffs. He is not at all surprised that the remnants of his garrison fail to understand him. Just as they had failed to understand Lucifer.

“Does that change anything?” Castiel asks slowly. “I’m still here.”

If Sam has changed his mind, he could exorcise Castiel and no one would be the wiser. He could possibly even kill him.

“They offered me everything, Castiel. They offered me riches, _power._ They said they’d bring Jess back.” Sam walks in a lazy circle around Castiel while he rattles off his list, and the smile he gives him is knowing, almost to the point of belittling. It is the smile given to a child asking about a fantasy. Castiel can see his chance at victory slipping between his fingers. “They’ve taught me magic. Ancient spells, dark things that let me do far more than break seals.”

“Did they offer to save you?”

At that Sam pauses, turning on the spot to face Castiel and fix him with a cold glare. “What do you mean, ‘save me’? When Lucifer wins-”

Castiel settles his weight and returns the seriousness of Sam’s gaze.

“Will he, Sam? Is that what they’ve told you?”

“That’s what all of this is for!” Sam exclaims, throwing his arms wide. “To set Lucifer free so that he can bring Paradise.”

“Has anyone in the garrison mentioned Lucifer when they speak of Paradise?” Castiel knows the answer to his own question, but he doubts Sam has ever considered it. He knows he’s right when he sees confusion settle over Sam’s features. A tilt of his head, the way his brows come together. Castiel has his full attention now, so he continues.

“Free is not the same as victorious. Lucifer must still defeat Michael, and that is when they will betray you.”

“No,” Sam breathes out, shaking his head. “You’re wrong. They’ve helped me every step of the way.” Sam’s voice rises, an edge of desperation creeping into it.

“Because you are their most valuable tool,” Castiel assures him. “You are the key, but once the door is opened you won’t be needed anymore. They will raise Lucifer only to turn him over to Michael to be killed.”

Sam laughs, but an anxious, humorless sound. “Lucifer will fight. I have an army standing waiting for him.”

“Which Michael will cut through like butter. Demons are no match for angels. You know that.”

“I thought you brought me here to stop the Apocalypse,” Sam says.

“I brought you here to save your life,” Castiel replies. “If Michael wins, you will not be spared. Neither will your brother.”

Sam draws a sharp breath at the mention of Dean, and Castiel is grateful that he is spared having to explain his role in this to Sam.

“The Host do not care what happens to humanity. They are only interested in Paradise for themselves.”

Sam’s mouth falls open, and for a moment he is silent. He scrubs a hand over his face while he collects his thoughts. “If we stop the Apocalypse, no one gets Paradise.”

Castiel blinks slowly. The time has come for him to reveal his plan to Sam. If he fails now and Sam returns to the garrison, he will have lost everything.

“Lucifer will give you peace, Sam. He will bring back everyone you love.”

Realization smooths out the lines on Sam’s face. “ _Lucifer_. You mean you-”

“Only by Lucifer’s victory can you and your family ever be safe and reunited,” Castiel fills in. “You will be rewarded. He will give you everything they have promised you, plus the one thing they would never let you have. Salvation.”

Castiel can all but see the thoughts moving inside Sam’s head as he replays conversations, but Castiel is secure in his cause. He knows Heaven’s motivations, and can imagine how they’ve manipulated Sam. It’s been a veneer of autonomy that has hidden how tightly the angels are holding Sam’s reins.

“Do the demons know that you are working with the Host?” Castiel ventures.

Sam’s face falls. “You wouldn’t.”

“No, you’re right,” Castiel says gruffly. “ _I_ wouldn’t, Sam. But Ruby asked me today if we were planning to take on Heaven.”

Sam’s eyes fall closed and a muscle jumps in his jaw. “It doesn’t matter. They listen to me,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

He starts circling again, and this time Castiel turns to follow him.

“Do you think they will continue to listen to you if they believe you’re an instrument of Heaven?”

Sam appears to give the idea some thought before answering, and Castiel waits, anxious to hear his answer.

“I am protected by Heaven. It’s not the same thing.”

Sam is trying to rally a defense, but Castiel can tell he is no longer convinced himself. Castiel is not proud of being the one to point these things out to Sam, but he can also imagine the condition Sam has been trained under. Constant attention that seems like devotion but is in fact a watch being kept, his education full of new and powerful things, but restricted solely to that which is absolutely necessary.

“You are under their thumb,” Castiel explains, fighting to keep his voice level, “and will only be protected as long as you are of use. When your work is done they will destroy you, and you will not be granted salvation. To them you are a tainted thing, intended for a single purpose.”

"I don't understand what you want me to do," Sam says. He runs his hands back through his hair and makes a small, frustrated sound.

"Join me," Castiel answers. "You and I will take on an army of angels, and then together we will raise Lucifer and he will be victorious, in accordance with his plan and in spite of Heaven's." 

These are wild plans and suggestions Castiel is laying out, but he can see that it’s working. When Sam had arrived, Castiel had been concerned that the angels had persuaded him to stay with them, but now he feels sure that his gift will keep him in Sam’s favor.

Sam looks uncertain. He frowns and shifts his weight. "I don't know if I'm strong enough." 

”You are. And I can give you something the garrison can’t,” Castiel says slowly, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. If this doesn’t work, he is out of cards to play. “I can give you your own means of protection.”

Sam arches an eyebrow and waits for Castiel to continue, an expression of amused curiosity playing out on his face.

Everything has led to this moment. All of Castiel’s hours of contemplation and prayer, where without an answer from his Father he had been forced to draw his own conclusions about how best to fulfill the orders he had been given. _Protect the Winchesters._

They had never said from what.

Castiel waves his hand in the direction of the bed, and there it is, unnaturally smooth and shining in the light of motel room’s lamp.

“Armor?” Sam breathes, quiet but incredulous as he steps to the edge of the bed. The pieces are laid out neatly beside each other, all golden and polished.

“A king needs armor,” Castiel reassures him with a tiny smile.

Sam brushes his fingers over each of them in turn. Castiel’s eyes flick from Sam’s hand to his face and back, watching his expression in an attempt to know what he’s thinking. There was a time when he could read the smallest change in Sam’s expression, but that was before Sam had accepted the dark path Castiel had warned him about.

“That’s the cuirass.” Castiel nods towards the broad chest armor, decorated with an ornate eight-pointed star that radiates out from the center. He speaks just to break the silence and remind Sam that he is still present. All of Sam’s attention is on the armor spread out in pieces on the bedspread.

“It doesn’t look like it will fit.” Sam’s eyes cut to the side, and Castiel can’t help but smile. Even this far down his path, Sam is still questioning his destiny.

“This armor was designed to fit Lucifer’s true vessel. It will always fit you perfectly. Had Lucifer’s Cage been opened when you were ten years old, this armor would have manifested itself in your exact dimensions then as well.”

There is a sigil etched into the uppermost plates of the spaulders that will protect Sam's shoulders. Sam recognizes the angles and curves of it immediately. He plucks the piece up from its resting place on the comforter, and his brows disappear up under his bangs when he feels the weight of it.

“It’s so light,” he muses as he turns it over in his hand.

“It’s not the thickness of the material that provides the greatest protection,” Castiel replies, leaning in to follow Sam’s gaze. The inside of the armor is etched with Enochian that Sam reads quietly aloud. His lips barely move, but Castiel can hear that his pronunciation is almost perfect. Sam has come so far, and Castiel feels a stab of loss that he was not the one to teach him these things. He’s missed his favorite student.

Sam turns the armor in his hands again. He traces the sigil with his finger it glows red under his touch.

“If this is Lucifer’s armor then why do you have it?” he asks. There is a hint of accusation in his voice that makes Castiel flinch.

“He was stripped of it when he was cast out. It’s been locked down since then, displayed in Heaven as an example of what happens when we are disobedient.”

Sam hums and nods distractedly, his attention turned back to the armor. This is what Castiel was afraid of, and he takes a step closer, moving to stand at Sam’s shoulder. Sam could easily gather these pieces and leave him again.

“How did you get it?”

“Balthazar helped me smuggle it out of Heaven. It was… not easy.” Castiel sees no need to give Sam unnecessary details. He is uncertain whether or not Sam will properly appreciate that it cost Castiel three of his brothers in order to present him with this gift.

He’s not even sure Sam will care.

“Why didn’t they ever tell me about this?”

Sam looks up, and there is the pain of betrayal on his face. Castiel’s heart sinks. He hadn’t intended to hurt Sam with the information he brought. He had forgotten how willing Sam was to trust others, or he had assumed that this new Sam would not have that same quality.

“Perhaps they didn’t think they’d be able to retrieve it, but I think they didn’t want you to become powerful enough to be able to fight back. Your independence was never part of the plan.”

Sam lifts his fingers and looks at them, rubbing the tips together. “I can feel something. I can feel- What is it?”

He turns to look at Castiel, and there is such wonder and curiosity in his face that it makes Castiel’s heart clench. He remembers how eager Sam had been in the beginning, always wanting to know more, and always coming to Castiel for knowledge.

Castiel had given much, and would give more, to have Sam look at him that way again, like he was something amazing and worth all of Sam’s attention.

Castiel clears his throat and collects his thoughts. “It is your destiny to bear this armor. As Lucifer’s vessel, you carry a connection to it. Whether he is possessing you or not, it will protect you.”

Sam nods. His hair has fallen down around his face, and Castiel cannot see his eyes.

“Why give me this now?” Sam asks.

_Because I can. Because I want to keep you safe by my side. Because I want to bring you closer to Heaven._

“Because you need it.”

_And because I need you._

“Do I?” Sam asks. This time his curiosity is laced with skepticism. He’s suddenly sure of himself and his power. Castiel can understand. It’s been a while since Sam needed something more than what he carries inside him.

His eyes search Castiel’s face for an explanation, and Castiel fights to keep his gaze level.

“If you truly wish to use your power to defeat the forces in Heaven that are working against Lucifer, you will need to be armed and protected.”

Sam nods. It’s a small movement. Castiel wonders when during their months apart Sam became so dignified. So regal. It's a change even from the easy confidence he'd shown in the alleyway, and Castiel wonders vaguely if the power in Lucifer's armor has already started working with him.

“How do I put it on?” Sam sets the spaulder back on the bed and plucks at a vambrace, turning it to look at the leather straps on the underside. “I’ve never…”

“Well, I can help you, but there’s no need until we’re ready to face Michael’s army.”

“Why can’t we go now? I have an army waiting out there,” Sam says, gesturing towards the door. “Thousands of demons, no waiting,” he adds with a smile.

So very Winchester, to have a plan that consists solely of making a plan on the battlefield. Castiel smiles to himself at the thought. He searches for words and chooses to err on the side of deferential. “I am pleased that you’re able to see my point of view.”

Castiel shrugs off his coat and drapes it over the back of a chair. “Umm, take off your shirt but leave your t-shirt. It will give you more freedom of movement.”

Sam does as he’s told, stepping out into the space between the beds. Castiel picks up the mail that will protect those parts of Sam not covered by armor. He lifts it, and they both laugh nervously.

“Right,” Sam says, bending forward so that Castiel can slip it over his head.

Just as Castiel promised, it fits perfectly, lying flat over his chest and shoulders and falling to just below his waist.

The cuirass is hinged at the shoulders. Castiel unbuckles the sides and turns, again, to face Sam, who drops to one knee in order to allow Castiel to lift it over his head. Even wearing only the mail, Sam is still striking in such a pose, kneeling with his head bowed. He looks up at Castiel as the armor settles over his shoulders, and Castiel reaches out without thinking to brush an errant lock of hair out of his eyes.

“Cas,” Sam says, and Castiel’s throat tightens. It has been too long since Sam referred to him that way. “Why are you doing this?”

His voice is warm and sincere, and for a moment Castiel is reminded of the boy he met in a hotel room just like this, earnestly shaking his hand, so ready to believe that they were there to do good.

Maybe now he could prove that boy right.

“I was given orders. I was told to protect you, and your brother. I was never told how or to what purpose. I have watched over both of you for longer than you know. I realized there was an angel who could bring about Paradise without costing me the thing I value most.”

Sam’s eyes flick up to meet Castiel’s, and for a moment they just look at each other.

“I need to believe that a Paradise can exist where we are not punished for how much we love,” Castiel mumbles before looking away. He’s afraid he’s said too much, but he needs Sam to understand that this is about more than duty. For Castiel, this has become a personal crusade.

Sam stands, and Castiel clicks the armor closed around his ribcage. The seams along the sides disappear, and for a moment Sam’s eyes flash yellow, a gold that matches the burnished armor.

“What about Dean?” Sam asks, turning his head and lifting his arm away from his body as Castiel approaches with the spaulders.

“An angel’s armor is an intrinsic part of themselves,” Castiel explains, keeping his eyes fixed on the straps and buckles so as not to meet Sam’s gaze. “Michael was never forced to be separated from his, so he still has it.”

“So?”

“So, Dean will be unable to assist us on this campaign.”

It was news that Dean had not taken lightly. He had been furious that he would once again be denied a chance to see his brother, convinced that if he could talk to Sam, he could change his mind. When Castiel had explained that this was their best chance to win Sam back and would almost certainly kill Dean, he had reluctantly agreed to not interfere.

Sam hasn’t seen his brother since shortly after he’d dragged Dean out of Hell. Castiel and several of the Host had witnessed the volatile reunion. The Host had rejoiced at the coming of The Righteous Man, but Castiel had been unsettled by this, his first opportunity to observe The Boy King, surrounded by demons and walking back through the gates of Hell unscathed.

Castiel had been assigned to watch over Dean, and that meant even watching over his brother. He had been fascinated by Sam, even apart from the power he possessed and what his abilities meant. Castiel was surprised to find that Sam could be thoughtful and inquisitive, but his persuasiveness was no match for his brother’s stubbornness. Dean had been unable to move past the choices Sam had made, and furious to see the path that Sam had set out on. They’d abandoned each other, a choice that Dean regretted bitterly as all signs pointed towards the Apocalypse, spearheaded by his estranged brother. Castiel had stayed with Dean, as Heaven commanded, but there had not been a day that he hadn’t thought of Sam’s welfare.

“What about you?” Sam looks down where Castiel is kneeling before him. Sam’s voice pulls Castiel out of his thoughts and brings him back to the task at hand. Sam obediently lifts one foot, then the other, so that Castiel can fasten the sollerets.

“What about me?” Castiel replies. “I will be joining you. I thought that was clear.”

“Do you have armor?” Sam asks.

Castiel pushes himself to his feet and steps away from Sam. It is distracting, being so near him, being allowed to touch him, wrap his hands and arms around him. Sam is psychic, and though Castiel knows that those abilities can not possibly extend to angels, he feels like every time they touch, Sam can tell how much he’s missed him.

“Of course,” Castiel replies flatly, his eyes skimming over the remaining pieces on the bed, not daring to look up and meet Sam’s eyes. He selects the greaves that will protect Sam’s legs and crosses to stand behind him.

He crouches and lays a hand on the inside of Sam’s calf. Sam shifts to spread his legs wider and settles his weight again.

“Why aren’t you wearing it?” Sam asks again. Castiel fits the plates around his legs and straightens with a sigh.

He moves to face Sam again, and the clank of metal precedes him. Sam twists to follow him as he moves to stand before him, now fully armored.

Castiel lifts his eyes to Sam’s face and gives him a shy smile.

“An angel is always wearing their armor, Sam.”

Castiel’s armor is the same gold as Lucifer’s, and similarly decorated, with curling filigrees along the lower edges. In place of Lucifer’s sigil, Castiel’s shoulders bear the Enochian C.

“It’s beautiful,” Sam mutters. He steps closer to Castiel and reaches out, letting his fingers brush over the metal above Castiel’s heart. He can feel the heat of Sam’s fingertips where they drag over his armor, and he can only hope that Sam can’t feel the flutter of his heart beneath it.

“It suits you,” Sam says, returning Castiel’s warm smile. “Certainly better than me.”

“I disagree,” Castiel replies. He clears his throat before continuing, trying to steady his voice. “You look very regal. Flannel shirts and jeans might be the hunter’s uniforms, but you lead an army now. You should look the part.”

“It will be an honor to stand beside you in battle, Cas.” The affection that softens Sam’s face is marred by the yellow of his eyes, but Castiel is flattered nonetheless.

“I am happy to have you at my side again,” he admits, tearing his eyes away from Sam’s face to return to the remaining armor. “I did not relish the idea that you thought we were on opposing forces.”

Castiel finishes dressing Sam in companionable silence, careful of where he places his hands when he wraps the armor around Sam’s thighs and hips.

The gauntlets are last, and Sam walks to the bed to retrieve them. He turns, and catches sight of himself in the mirror.

“My _eyes._ ” He steps closer, turning his head from side to side, barely sparing a glance for the golden armor.

“It’s an effect of the armor’s protection,” Castiel explains, watching Sam’s reflection.

The armor accentuates Sam’s size, the breadth of his chest and shoulders, particularly in comparison to his narrow waist. It had been Sam’s heart and mind that Castiel had found himself most attracted to, but he is not too proud to admit to himself that he finds Sam handsome as well, especially now, in the battle dress of he who had once been the most beautiful of the Host.

“Do you think I look weird?” Sam asks after a moment, and again Castiel finds himself considering Sam’s mood swings. One minute he is a barely contained thunderhead of power and authority, the next a man in search of guidance and acceptance.

Castiel does his best to offer Sam a warm smile, and it pleases him to see the crease between Sam’s brows smooth out. “You look like a king, Sam.”

Sam frowns and sighs, but he nods. He looks down at his hands. “I’m going to need a sword, I think.”

“They haven’t taught you how to exorcize angels?”

Sam shakes his head.

This is important information for Castiel, as he can now see exactly how tight a leash the Host have been keeping Sam on. It makes sense, especially if they suspect him of doubt and would fear for their own safety. For a moment he imagines Sam standing on the battlefield, wielding all the power of Hell with his body as conduit. It’s a frightening thought, and Castiel pushes it from his mind.

This also presents Castiel with one last test for Sam. He wants nothing more than to be able to trust him again, and he longs for the affection that they once shared, but turning over a weapon to Sam means that Castiel is no longer protected from him, if Sam should change his mind before the battle.

Castiel produces an angel blade, resting in a simple leather sheath with a matching belt threaded through it. Sam’s eyes widen when he sees it, and his gaze flits up to Castiel’s face.

“You can’t give me your blade,” Sam breathes.

“I’m not.” Castiel had hoped to avoid an explanation. “It’s not mine,” he adds, holding it out to Sam again.

“Is it Lucifer’s?” Sam twists as much as he is able in the armor, trying to look down at himself as if he can see where the blade may have come from.

“No,” Castiel answers. “He still has his. It was thought that it would be… useful to him.”

“You guys don’t just have extras. Cas, where did this come from?” Sam holds his hands palms-out, defensively, as if he doesn’t want to take the blade.

Castiel sighs wearily. “Smuggling the armor out of Heaven was not an easy task. Balthazar is very good at his work, but we were discovered.”

“Did you kill angels to get me this?” Sam asks, gesturing towards the armor on his body.

Castiel avoid his eyes and steps in between Sam’s hands to loop the belt around his waist. Sam raises his arms to facilitate Castiel’s tying the belt, but he watches Castiel with concern.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” Sam says.

Castiel nods but keeps his gaze lowered as he straightens. The belt hangs loosely around Sam’s hips, knotted so that the sheath is within easy reach.

“We’re going to kill more angels now,” Castiel points out, stepping back.

“Not ones that are your friends,” Sam answers. He catches Castiel’s shoulders so that he can’t move further away.

Castiel tilts his head and looks at Sam. He thinks he should know better by now, but he is surprised by the sheer amount that Sam can care about others.

“Does that make a difference to you?” Castiel asks softly.

“Yes,” Sam replies. “None of this was ever supposed to hurt you. I had hoped that you would join me.”

His hand is warm where he cups Castiel’s cheek, and Castiel leans into the touch.

“I think I prefer this new plan,” Castiel says, feeling a renewed sense of confidence.

Sam leans down to kiss him. It’s not the most passionate kiss they’ve ever shared. With all the metal between them, and all the time that’s passed, it feels a little awkward, and it occurs to Castiel that he’s not the only one who is nervous. Sam’s lips are soft and warm, and when his tongue teases at Castiel’s lower lip, he lets his mouth fall open and closes his eyes, pushing back against Sam to deepen the kiss.

Their noses bump against each other and Castiel feels Sam smile against his mouth. That’s the moment when he knows that even if they don’t defeat Heaven, he has already won.

“Right,” Sam says. The moment disappears as he straightens, suddenly filled with restless energy. “How do we do this?”

“Pick up your helm and I’ll take you with me.”

Castiel nods towards the bed. The helm is surprisingly simple in design, coming down to cover Sam’s nose but open at the bottom. He turns it over in his hands, but doesn’t put it on.

“Do you have a way to contact your army?” Castiel asks.

Sam nods. “Get me there, and I can show some of them where I am. They can lead the others. But Cas,” he says, doubt creeping into his voice, “they will do as much damage now as they would do under Lucifer’s command.”

Castiel is nervous, but ready, and he feels certain that Sam is, too. There is no way to prepare for what they are about to face, but Sam’s enthusiasm is infectious. He has always believed in Castiel, and Castiel has always believed in himself more when Sam is at his side.

“We don’t need them to defeat Heaven. We just need them to give us a chance.”

“Thank you for this, Cas,” Sam says with a smile, just before Castiel brushes his fingertips to Sam’s forehead, and they are gone, moving from the motel room to the battlefield at the speed of thought. 


End file.
